


offer me that deathless death

by coffeefrog



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeefrog/pseuds/coffeefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q had no illusions where Bond was concerned.</p>
<p>James had made him no promises, no pretty little lies that would make Q believe he was anything more than just a convenience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	offer me that deathless death

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently addicted to Q being in love with Bond and Bond just being Bond and getting his kicks where he can. This is possibly part of an over all series of ficlets I will write. Mostly angst because Spectre left me feeling like James really was using Q.

Q had no illusions where Bond was concerned.

James had made him no promises, no pretty little lies that would make Q believe he was anything more than just a convenience. Someone to occupy his time in between missions. And maybe James knew that Q wasn’t going to ask him for anything. He’d open his door when Double-Oh-Seven knocked too late in the night to be considered a respectable visit. Q wouldn’t ask questions when James kissed him before the door was even closed. He wouldn’t ask about the taste of whiskey and blood from the latest split lip the man was sporting.

He had no illusions because he knew damn well better than that. Q prided himself on his intelligence. He knew he was being used and that was perfectly alright with him. 

If he was fooling himself, he would believe that maybe he was different than all the women Bond had slept with, whether for a mission or for his own personal enjoyment. They talked of Bond’s conquests with women, but no mention had ever been made of _men_. Bond was a ladykiller in more ways than one. Literally and figuratively. 

“Good thing I’m not a lady,” he had joked when Moneypenny had brought the nickname to his attention. She meant well, he knew, but her concern was unnecessary.

But, Q was no fool. He wasn’t different. Bond would leave in the morning, when Q was still sprawled on one half of the bed, sleeping the deep sleep of the satisfied. When he woke, he would go to the bathroom to shower and memorize each touch on his skin, each bruise Bond left behind.

If he was being honest…

But he didn’t want to be honest because that would only lead to more suffering in the end. 

So, in the morning, after washing the remains of the previous evening from his skin, he would trek into work. They would fall into the expected routine. Quartermaster and Double-Oh-Seven. Bond would flirt as though he didn’t realize he was doing it. And maybe he didn’t. Flirting for Bond was as natural as breathing.

Maybe one morning Bond wouldn’t leave before Q had woken up. Maybe he would stay for breakfast.

Maybe he really did have illusions, but he knew he would open his door again the next time Bond knocked. He wouldn’t turn him away even though he knew better. Bond had gotten under his skin despite his best efforts to keep him away. 

And, God help him, he would do whatever the man asked of him. He had fallen hard and he was pretty sure Bond would use that to his advantage. Had already used him more than could be expected of any man.

But, Q just couldn’t find it in himself to give much of a damn.


End file.
